


Underdog

by cjmarlowe



Series: Friendly Competition [1]
Category: Diving RPF
Genre: M/M, Smacking/Slapping, going for the gold, kink bingo, london 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjmarlowe/pseuds/cjmarlowe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom shouldn't have assumed he would be the one in charge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underdog

"I should never have agreed to this," says Tom, closing Riley's door softly then leaning back against it with both hands behind his body. It leaves him vulnerable, but sometimes that can still get a person the upper hand, in the long run.

"Probably not," agrees Riley, amiable with a slight edge, "but then you assumed you were going to beat me in every round, didn't you? So you didn't worry about what you were promising."

Riley's sitting in front of his television, playing a game on his Xbox that Tom can't identify from this angle, and he doesn't even look up. It's a power thing, Tom _knows_ it is. Nobody could be that enraptured by a game when Tom's standing in the room, completely at his mercy.

"You have to admit it was _likely_ ," says Tom, though that's probably the exactly wrong thing to say when Riley's about to have his way with him. "The odds looked good for me."

"Well, that's why they have the competitions, isn't it," says Riley. "If it was a sure thing, we wouldn't need to bother."

Tom bites his lip, looks at Riley through his eyelashes and still hopes this pose might work. It's certainly got him other things that he wanted. If only Riley would _look_ at him. Finally there's an explosion on the screen and Riley puts the controller down.

"At least you'll have a chance to get some back in the next round," he says, and turns to smile at Tom and there's nothing devious in it. It isn't even particularly triumphant. "God, you look like you're coming to your doom or something. Try to remember that we're about to have sex? Which you enjoy, if I remember the past two weeks correctly?"

"Yes, but I had a _plan_ for tonight," Tom admits. Not much of an admission, really. "And now I don't get to do it."

"Then it's a good thing I had a plan for tonight too," says Riley, "because you may be the great Tom Daley but sometimes I do come out on top."

The truth is that neither one of them had their best day, in the preliminary round of competition, but they'd both pulled through to the next round and that's all that matters. That means they can enjoy tonight without the disappointment that one of them won't be competing tomorrow, when everything starts fresh again. 

"What kind of plans?" says Tom, hand sort of grazing down his body entirely of its own free will. "Am I going to like these plans?"

"You pretty much always like my plans, so don't even pretend," says Riley. He's not wrong about that, but Tom is trying to set a _mood_ here, not yet entirely accepting that it's Riley's mood to set tonight. "Come here, would you? Stop looking like you're trying to escape."

The last thing Tom wants to do is escape, especially since they don't have much time. Semi-finals are in the morning, and they're both going to want to get a decent sleep before that.

"Nothing that leaves a visible mark," he says, pushing himself off from the door with his fingertips and joining Riley by the settee. It doesn't even need to be said, but he wants to say it anyway.

" _Everything_ leaves a mark," says Riley, grabbing Tom by the belt loop and pulling him down halfway on top of himself. "There is very little of you not showing when you compete." Tom just smirks at him and tugs up on Riley's shirt. "How about I just take you to bed while I can?"

Despite the declaration he's none too quick about that, grabbing hold of Tom's shirt and kissing him so long they have to pause to catch their breath. Tom is definitely not complaining. He wouldn't have complained about a little more of that, in fact, but then Riley's giving him a little shove and tugging at his shirt and it's clearly clothes-off-bed-time, which Tom is also not complaining about.

He strips himself down as they go, a shirt here, his trousers there, dropping his pants by the side of the bed before Riley pushes him onto it, sprawled on his front and across the entirety of the mattress. He doesn't mind the bedsin Athletes Village, but when it comes to sex he does wish they were just a little bit larger.

Riley's kneeling, running his hands over Tom's body, kissing here and there when he feels like it, till Tom doesn't know where his hands or his lips are going to be next.

It's a shock when Riley's hand comes down on his arse a moment later, not lightly but with a sharp smack.

He almost protests, almost, but the sting of it shoots right to his dick, which was already paying a great deal of attention to the proceedings. It's kind of hard to protest after that, so instead he just turns his head towards Riley, wondering if any kind of explanation is forthcoming.

"I think," says Riley, giving him another smack, "I've found the one part of you that's not going to show visible marks tomorrow."

Tom's heart is pounding and his dick is throbbing and he can't admit it, he can't say it out loud, but he wants Riley to do that again. He wants it so much he bites his lip and shifts his hips and just _looks_ at him till Riley brings his hand back down on the other cheek.

Then Riley leans in close and whispers in Tom's ear, "I told you you'd like it," and Tom has no idea how he knew that but he's so right. It also means that this is what Riley had planned all along, it wasn't just opportunity, which somehow just makes it hotter. Riley _knows_ him. Some deep part of him, some part of him he didn't even know was there, is exposed.

Tom tries to say something, and is surprised when he actually can't get anything out; he opens his mouth but there are no words. But Riley still gets it. He slaps his arse again, then the tender skin at the tops of his thighs, and just when Tom hisses he brushes his fingertips over the same spot so gently that the sensation actually makes Tom shudder, makes his heart pound an extra, irregular beat.

He pants a few times, catches his breath, and manages to say, "People can see that bit." Riley laughs and the next time his hand comes down, simultaneous with his lips touching the back of Tom's shoulder, it's square on one side of Tom's arse again.

They're not going to fuck. Riley hasn't told him so, but it's just not really compatible with having to compete in the morning. This probably isn't either, but as Riley's hand keeps coming down, irregularly, sometimes soft and sometimes so hard Tom gasps, he's careful about where. Always somewhere Tom's tiny strip of cloth will mostly, if not entirely, cover. Though everything underneath it is going to be bright red.

The idea of diving like that makes his cock twitch.

When Riley finally stops and stretches out beside him, kissing the side of his neck and rolling them so he can trail a hand down Tom's chest towards his dick, Tom is both excited and disappointed. He's not sure how much more he could have taken, but a part of him wanted to find out.

Maybe next time.

"Like this," says Riley, fitting his dick up just beneath Tom's tailbone, nestling in and then rocking his hips forward as he crosses the threshold of Tom's abs with his fingers. "We can do it like this."

"I could blow you, if you wanted," says Tom, even as Riley's fingertips veer from course to brush lightly over the edge of his sensitive arse. He hisses again.

"You can do that tomorrow if you get a chance to decide," says Riley. "Tonight it's my call."

" _If_ I get a chance to decide?" says Tom. Riley just smacks his hip, one more time. Tom is pretty sure he's smiling as he does it. "I think the odds are pretty good."

"You thought that about today, too," says Riley, smoothing his hand so gently over the hot spot on Tom's hip just to smack it again. "Don't get ahead of yourself. You'll like what I've got planned for tomorrow."

"You'll like what I've got planned for tomorrow, too," says Tom, then Riley is brushing something over his arse, feather soft, and he stops being able to form words at all.

Riley turns his hips back and rocks against him again and the pleasure-pain- _heat_ combination makes it hard for Tom to _breathe_. He doesn't want to think anymore, just lets the sensation take over, focuses on his breathing and on his pulse and when Riley wraps a hand around his dick, starts stroking it in time with his thrusts against Tom's arse, he just sighs into it.

His body is trembling, and Riley's soothing touches to his back and shoulder just make it worse. The soft brushes against his skin juxtaposed against the throbbing heat are making him more than just tremble—he's very nearly shaking.

"You're close," says Riley, and it's not a question. It's not even a statement; soft and uninflected as it is, it's still an order. If he were still thinking clearly, Tom might've wanted to argue with him just because of the presumption, but he's _not_ and of course he was already close; is even closer now. "If I do _this_ —" And Riley rubs his thumb over the exposed and wet head of Tom's dick. "—then you're going to—"

Tom comes, abruptly, with a gasp and a jerk, curling his body forwards around Riley's arm. He just holds him there as he rubs up against him, faster now, panting audibly even though Tom's pulled forward enough that Riley's mouth isn't anywhere near his ear. He feels the hot splash of come, even hotter when some of it hits his still-reddened skin. Riley pulls away faster that Tom was expecting, then _blows_ against his skin to cool him off and Tom shakes all over again.

It's a few moments before he settles, and before Riley settles in behind him again. Tom still isn't breathing quite right, but he considers that the sign of a good night. Brief as it had to be.

"Are you staying here?" says Riley, and Tom shakes his head. He can't stay the night, can't even stay _long_. They're competing in the morning and that means people are going to want to know where he is and what he's doing, and if he thinks he'll get a _better_ night's sleep here in Riley's room, not having to move from now till morning, that's something that would take more time to explain than it's worth.

"Help me find my trousers?" he says, forcing himself off the bed onto wobbly legs. The walk back to his own building will do him some good. Limber him up again. Even though his skin is still on fire, and likely will be for a while.

Riley groans, like he doesn't want to move, but he gets up, wraps his arms around Tom from behind and kisses his neck, in an moment that's surprisingly tender. Then he helps him find the rest of his clothes, too. The suite's just not that big; it doesn't take long, though he does almost steal Riley's shoes by mistake.

"Good luck tomorrow," says Riley, and then, because apparently he just can't help himself, adds, "You're going to need it."

Tom flips him off and heads out the door.


End file.
